Distress Call
by Sam C
Summary: This time it's the Captain who needs help, with Janeway at her most deliciously evil. Can the crew save the Captain they know and love?  This story will contain a J/7 relationship and some, ah, inappropriate language!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Part 1**

"You do realise that your behaviour was," Janeway's deadly tone continued with words that matched perfectly - "once again, completely unacceptable?"

Captain Janeway sat at her ready room desk, a PADD in one hand, the slender fingers of the other lightly closed in a loose fist. Her voice had descended to its deepest limit, barely more than a growl. It would have stricken terror into the heart of any Starfleet officer who had ever graced the universe with their presence, had it been a Starfleet officer who faced her. Instead, Janeway's menacing, barely controlled fury was met with an icy blue stare and an expression that could have been carved from marble.

"Yes, Captain," replied Seven-of-Nine. "What is my punishment to be?" she enquired, as though asking what was for breakfast. The PADD hit the table with such force that it cracked, causing a crewman on the floor below to flinch, startled at the sudden noise. The infernal woman, however, just stood there, proudly erect, her hands locked together behind her back.

"For what? Which transgression are you asking about, Seven? Disobeying a direct order? Assaulting a senior officer – Chakotay is fine, by the way, since the Doctor put his face back together. Misuse of ship's equipment, unauthorised procurement of supplies – should I go on?"

The impassive Nordic face showed no emotion, not a blink of an eye, and this more than anything was the cause of Janeway's next statement. "I'm afraid this is one time too many." She looked down at her hands, and when the Captain raised her head again her grey-blue eyes locked onto Seven-of-Nine's. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty passed over the Borg's fine features, and Janeway felt a tug of bizarre pleasure creep up from her stomach. She allowed a smirk to form on her lips, an unfamiliar expression for Janeway and one not at all befitting a Starfleet Captain.

"I'm ordering you to leave Voyager. I'll provide you with a shuttlecraft and some supplies. I don't care where you go, except that I never, ever, want to see you on my ship again. Understood?" Janeway was enjoying herself now, feeling a sadistic amusement at the Borg's evident dismay. Too proud to argue, too shocked to say anything at all, the tall woman turned on her heel and strode out of the ready room, the doors swishing shut behind her.

"And that's that," laughed Janeway to herself, leaning back in her chair and resting her booted feet on her desk amid the shattered remains of the PADD. Shaking her head and smiling, she closed her eyes. Janeway could have timed the predicted door beep to the nanosecond.

"Come in," she called, making no effort to rise or even sit in a more dignified manner. "Can I help you, Commander?" she asked sweetly of her first officer. A large, muscular man, he could use his strength much more effectively than he ever did, Janeway mused, making a mental note to discuss that in the future. He looked confused, and Janeway's amusement rose once again.

"Is there a problem, Commander?"

"You tell me," the man responded, approaching Janeway and regarding her intently.

"I don't think there is," she responded. If the man was too timid to say what was on his mind, she had no intention of helping him. Eventually, speaking slowly in a measured tone, he began again.

"Seven-of-Nine just informed me that you have ordered her to leave Voyager. Is that correct?"

"Yep," answered Janeway, the pitch of her voice conveying distracted boredom.

"Isn't that a bit…over the top, Captain?" he asked, still looking confused, as though he didn't really believe what he was hearing. At last Janeway took pity on him, mostly as it seemed the quickest way to get rid of him.

"She has committed too many offences, Chakotay. I don't want her on this ship any longer. I'm sorry if you have a problem with that, but I've made my decision. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"Not yet, Kathryn. A decision like that can't be made so lightly, without some discussion and input from senior officers, including myself. Now are you going to call her back from the shuttle bay, or shall I?"

Janeway's anger rose at Chakotay's words. As before, it manifested through her voice, her tone and words, causing the First Officer to recoil as she uttered them. "I can understand why Seven hit you, Chakotay. You really can be most irritating at times. My order stands. Dismissed. Dis_missed_!" she repeated, raising the volume a small yet significant amount when he failed to move the first time. As Seven had before him, Chakotay left without a word.

Janeway yawned, the conversation already forgotten. Smiling again, she too exited the room, crossing the bridge to the turbolift. Chakotay was not present, and the Captain assumed that he was going to speak to Seven. She shrugged. It made no difference to her. "Tuvok, you have the bridge. I'm going for lunch."

Tuvok exchanged glances with Harry Kim before replying. Janeway would have to do something about that, too.

"Acknowledged, Captain."

**Part 2**

The mess hall was busy as the first lunch rotation got underway. Seeing her Chief Engineer and Tom Paris seated at a table, the Captain wound her compact frame between the tables and joined them without invitation, causing Torres to flick her eyes at her partner. Tom cleared his throat.

"Hello, Captain, it's nice of you to join us. Will you be trying Neelix's pie?" he asked, gesturing towards his own plate.

"I don't think so," answered Janeway, sneering disgustedly at the cooling remains. "I don't know what that hedgehog does to food, but once he's touched it, it generally stops being edible."

B'Elanna glanced at Tom for longer this time, her eyes wide with shock at the Captain's insulting comment. Privately she agreed with the sentiment, but she had never before heard such a cutting remark or personal insult from Janeway, or any senior officer for that matter with the possible exception of herself. But, thought Torres, at least the recipients of her lashing tongue actually deserved it, whereas that was just…totally inappropriate. Sensing Torres's discomfort, Tom sprang to his feet.

"Well, sorry Captain, but duty calls. Are you coming, B'Elanna?" She nodded, and forced a smile onto her face.

"See you later, Captain." The pair left Janeway alone, mirth cracking her face as she bit her lip and tried not to laugh. Her amusement quickly turned sour as she noticed the furry little Talaxian bumbling towards her, but she forced herself to greet him with a raised hand.

"What can I get you, Captain?" he asked jovially, and Janeway wanted to slap the silly grin off his face.

"Cheese on toast, and a pot of coffee," she replied, not looking at the chef as he peered at her good-naturedly.

"I'm afraid I don't have any cheese right now, Captain. Could I interest you in a nice-"

The Captain cut him off with a scowl and a voice, raised just enough that crewmembers at several surrounding tables looked across on hearing it. "Then _replicate some_," she said in a tone that was so cool it could have frozen hydrogen. Ignoring his injured expression she looked away, as though the Talaxian were so inconsequential that he didn't even merit a second glance.

"Coming right up, Captain." He hurried off, several concerned pairs of eyes following him, but most of their owners assuming he had said something to irk the Captain.

**Part 3**

After she had eaten the bland and frankly unsatisfying meal, Janeway strolled through the corridors and rode turbolifts in order to reach her destination, humming softly to herself as she walked. Though she had the beginnings of a headache, just a slight niggle behind her right ear, she felt quite content. Moving briskly, she strode into Main Engineering. The huge warp core dominated the room, emitting a constant low drone and the familiar blue light. Turning as she heard the doors open, Torres quickly crossed to where Janeway stood, smiling awkwardly.

"Ah, Captain, I wasn't expecting you."

"No, you wouldn't be. I like to pop up now and again unannounced, make sure you're not up to anything."

Janeway's words were odd, and before she had time to think, B'Elanna blurted out her reply. Recalling the earlier incident in the mess hall and Janeway's crude criticism, Torres belatedly wished that perhaps she hadn't asked anything more at all.

"And what do think I might be _up to_, Captain?" It was meant as a serious question and said in a fair, surprised manner, and the Chief Engineer was sorely unprepared for the answer.

"Oh, you know, insubordination, disobeying orders, forming a renegade faction, that sort of thing." The Captain wasn't even looking at Torres, but focusing her attention on the warp core.

"Captain, I – are you serious?" The normally feisty half-Klingon was extremely shocked, her cheeks paling. Janeway patted her arm in a condescending fashion, and if it had been anyone other than her Captain the scene would probably have ended in bloodshed. Instead, B'Elanna just waited, open-mouthed.

"Once a Maquis, B'Elanna…" Janeway didn't bother to finish the sentence, merely shrugging her shoulders as though it were the most normal thing in the world for her to say and walking off, the engineer staring at her back mutely as she went. Walking backwards at first, then turning to the doors and openly running, B'Elanna fled. Once she was in the corridor, safely away from Janeway's eyes, she tapped her comm badge breathlessly.

"Torres to Chakotay," she gasped, still unable to really believe the exchange that had just taken place.

"Chakotay here," came the masculine voice in response, and Torres attempted to force a semblance of calmness into her tone.

"I – well, it's – I just…" her words tailed off and she leaned against the cool wall, breathing deeply. How unbelievable would it sound over the comm system, explaining that the Captain had with a few words managed to insult her more deeply than anyone else aboard had managed even a tenth of? And not just her, but by extension all the other Maquis crewmembers aboard Voyager. After everything they had been through as a united crew?

"What is it, B'Elanna?" She had forgotten about Chakotay, and hastily she spoke again.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked carefully, deciding that this was a discussion that was best carried out in person.

"Of course. I'm on the bridge. Come up to the Captain's ready room."

Unsure that she wanted to be anywhere near one of the Captain's rooms, she agreed anyway and set off towards the nearest turbolift, glancing back several times to make sure that Janeway wasn't behind her.

…..


	2. Chapter 2

For some reason I forgot my usual introduction when I posted Chapter 1. Anyway, the characters belong to Paramount, I'm just borrowing them. This story will contain scenes involving a relationship between two women, possibly explicit which would require a change in rating. It will also contain sexual references and swearing, some strong. If you don't like any of this, don't read it. If you do, then enjoy!

One other thing – some readers have commented on my use of British English (or actually, well, English English!), saying it's unauthentic. I do agree with your point, however none of my stories would have actually happened during the series, ever, so I don't put too much stock in the authenticity angle, and also it's simply impossible for me to write any other way. As Daphne put it so well in _Frasier_, "I don't care how often you say 'elevator' or 'apartment' or 'crossing guard', to me they'll always be lifts and flats and lollipop men!"

Chapter 2

**Part 1**

Torres marched across the bridge, barely nodding to the officers present, and jabbed at the door panel outside the Captain's ready room. She still wasn't calm, but her shock and upset had been replaced by Klingon rage.

"Come in," called Chakotay, and Torres entered, stopping suddenly when she found Neelix and Paris as well as the First Officer.

"What's going on?" B'Elanna asked, raking her hand through her hair and scowling. She was the best scowler on board, thought Tom privately as he grinned in return, unaware that his grin was also remarked upon frequently. Chakotay swung around to face her, looking over the short woman's shoulder and waiting for the door to close before he spoke.

"It seems you're not the only one our esteemed Captain has upset today, B'Elanna. Neelix says she raised her voice at him in the mess hall, and Tom was just about to add something, I believe?"

Paris's grin was replaced by a more serious expression. "B'Elanna and I were both present, Commander. The Captain said…well, she said something not very nice about Neelix. It probably wasn't meant that way," he added hastily, swallowing furiously. Chakotay's gentle brown eyes regarded the helmsman for a few seconds before landing on Torres, who shook her head angrily.

"I can top that, Chakotay." She repeated Janeway's words accurately, trying hard not to give them any additional inflection. Even so, Chakotay was taken aback.

"The Captain said that? Really?"

"Are you asking if I'm lying?"

"Of course not. I just wonder if perhaps you…misread the situation. It's very unlikely that Captain Janeway intended to insult you, and far more likely she was joking."

"It wasn't very damn funny, Chakotay, and I'm not laughing." The half-Klingon's eyes flashed dangerously, a sign Chakotay had seen many times before, and he raised a placatory hand in an attempt to subdue his former Maquis colleague's anger.

Tom spoke again, and the others turned to him, unused to the low, serious tone from the boyish pilot. "And what about the Captain ordering Seven off the ship? That's not right, Chakotay. Are you going to talk to the Captain?"

"Wait a minute," Torres butted in. "Captain Janeway has told Seven to leave Voyager?"

It was unthinkable that Janeway, who had risked her life to retrieve Seven from the Borg a second time, who had mentored and nurtured the young woman as she struggled to regain her humanity, would abandon her so readily for what in her case was a relatively minor series of transgressions. Torres carried on. "I mean, I'm not Seven's biggest fan by any means, but throwing her off the ship – what is she thinking? _Is_ she thinking?"

"Lieutenant, calm down. Say much more than that and you'll be bordering on mutiny. Now, I will speak with Captain Janeway about all of this-"

"All of _what_, Commander?" The icy voice came from the doorway where Janeway had slipped in unnoticed, the others too involved in their conversation to hear the doors sliding open. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" She didn't sound sorry, thought Torres, just…mean. "I didn't realize my ready room had become an authorized meeting place for my officers to talk about me behind my back." Her silky voice washed over the listeners like a cold, smothering blanket, and Tom Paris recalled afterwards that he had actually shuddered.

The beep of Janeway's comm badge startled them all. Without taking her eyes off Chakotay's, Janeway listened.

"Seven-of-Nine to Captain Janeway. I am ready to depart. Which shuttlecraft do you wish me to take?"

All eyes on the Captain, she appeared to think, tapping one finger to her chin and pulling an expression of concentration that was so blatantly false it was chilling. "Well, Seven," she murmured, a little knot of pleasure tightening her stomach as she formulated the sentence, anticipating its effects, "I don't really _wish_ you to take a shuttle at all. In fact I'd rather float you out of an airlock, given all the trouble you've caused me…" Janeway glanced at Chakotay and smiled that awful, cold smile. "But that wouldn't be very nice, now, would it?" She laughed, shaking her head with amusement. "You may take the _Sacajawea_. Janeway out."

She looked around at the appalled expressions and it was all she could do not to laugh again. Biting her lip, she addressed the four of them firmly. "I would like you to leave, all of you. Now."

With a backward glance that was pure disbelief, the First Officer led the way. Once the doors had safely closed behind them, he turned to Tom, Neelix and B'Elanna who surrounded him.

"See?" hissed Torres pointedly.

Very quietly, Chakotay tried hard to reassure them. "I will talk to her, but I need to think about this first. And I have to see Seven before she leaves. Go back to your stations and I'll come back to you if and when I have something to tell you."

**Part 2**

Chakotay's first stop was the shuttle bay. He breathed in deeply before entering. The _Sacajawea's_ engines were already powered, Seven obviously having started the pre-flight check. Rather than bother with his comm badge, Chakotay simply rapped sharply on the shuttle's hull. The large door swung open and he entered somewhat hesitantly.

"Have you come to wish me a pleasant journey, Commander?" Seven asked calmly without taking her eyes from the console. "I have taken the liberty of procuring extra, unauthorized supplies. Perhaps you are here to confiscate them?"

Realizing that there was a thin line to be trodden, Chakotay didn't reply immediately. Whilst he wanted to offer his support to Seven, it was unseemly – and possibly dangerous – to criticize the Captain's decisions.

"I'm…sorry, Seven. This decision was the Captain's alone, but it was hers to make."

The large man leaned forward, grasping Seven's shoulder and gently turning her to face him. He crouched down beside her chair so that their eyes were level. "Listen to me. I don't honestly know what the Captain's intentions are; it could be that she means to come and pick you up in a day or two, hoping that the punishment will be a lesson. I'm sure she wouldn't want you to get hurt. I know she cares about you, Seven."

"I thought so, too. Evidently I was mistaken, as are you."

"Follow Voyager as best you can. I'll talk to the Captain and do everything in my power to get you back on board, even if it's to scrub the plasma injectors for six months." His attempt at humour had no effect on the Borg, who sat absolutely still whilst, in the very corner of one eye, a solitary tear welled. "In the meantime, I'll do my best to find diversions for Voyager, so that you don't get too far behind."

"Thank you, Commander." Seven-of-Nine still retained her composure despite the tear streaking down her pale cheek. "However, since the Captain no longer wants me on board, I have decided to rejoin the Collective. I suggest that you leave this area quickly."

Chakotay's head sagged, and he felt utterly powerless at that moment. "Don't do that. You've come such a long way, learned so much. Don't throw all that away because the Captain – because you're leaving Voyager." He wanted to say that Janeway would change her mind, that she was simply trying to make the young woman see the error of her ways with a short, sharp shock. But deep down, he couldn't honestly, definitely assure the tearful Borg that that was true.

Her soft words broke into his thoughts, and what he heard, even in this dire situation, amazed him. "If the Captain doesn't want me, I no longer wish to be human. I would rather be assimilated or dead than live without her."

"Seven," responded Chakotay gently, even more so than usual. Despite his size and appearance he had a peaceful, caring soul and a huge heart. "I know you respected the Captain, looked up to her, obeyed her – for the most part. Am I right in thinking there was more to it?"

A quiet sob leaked out from Seven's lips, muffled as she angrily wiped her face with one sleeve, so uncharacteristically human, childlike even. "Seven?" Chakotay's tone was soft but insistent, and, regaining a little of her previous icy demeanour, the young woman nodded curtly, then shook her head almost in the same movement.

"I…liked the Captain a lot. More than she knew. I do not wish to discuss the matter further. It is now irrelevant."

Seven activated the comm system, and Chakotay stood, watching her. So intelligent, so strong, yet with a vulnerability that the Captain must have seen during the time they had spent working together.

"_Sacajawea _to Voyager. Ready for launch."

The reply came from the bridge, and Chakotay unconsciously clenched his fists at the sound of Janeway's mocking tone. "Launch authorized. Bon voyage, Seven."

Chakotay stepped out of the shuttle, the door closing behind him with a clang of finality. He watched as the vessel hovered, then sped out, the shuttle bay force field briefly glowing blue as the _Sacajawea_ left Voyager, carrying with it a woman he had come to consider a member of the crew, an intelligent, resourceful ex-drone who had saved all of their lives at one point or another, including Janeway's. His face set in a steely mask, the first officer began to walk, out of the shuttle bay and through the corridors to a turbolift.

"Deck five."

**Part 3**

Janeway lounged in her ready room, seated on the sofa that ran underneath the large windows. Munching on the popcorn she had replicated by the bucketload, she grinned, pulling off her boots and sprawling untidily, tossing pieces up into the air and attempting to catch them in her mouth, paying no attention to the crumbs that now littered the cushions and floor. When the door chimed, she tossed a handful of the sticky snack towards the sound, her mood souring instantly.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, who is it now?" she demanded angrily, the profanity coming easily. Tuvok had never heard the Captain use such language, and was obviously surprised, but Janeway was not in a good humour any more and could not be bothered to tease the Vulcan. "What do you want, Tuvok?" she snapped, slamming the bucket down on the floor so that even more pieces joined the existing debris.

"I am concerned, Captain. There is talk amongst the crew that you have been acting strangely and it worries me. Evidently they were right," he added, raising an eyebrow at the mess, the Captain's lack of boots and untidy appearance. "Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine, Tuvok. So I decide to have a little fun – there's no harm in that." As though to prove her point, she shoveled a handful of popcorn into her mouth, chewing enthusiastically. Tuvok's expression barely changed, but concern showed clearly in his dark features.

"Was it 'fun' to insult Lieutenant Torres in engineering, or Mr. Neelix in the mess hall? To order Seven-of-Nine from the ship and abandon her alone in a shuttlecraft?"

The Captain bit her lip again as the laughter rose inside her. Tuvok always had been able cheer her up. She forced the rising giggles down with considerable willpower. "I was joking with Torres and Neelix, Tuvok; they should lighten up a bit and not be so sensitive. As for Seven-of-Nine, she had been warned many times. I won't have that sort of constant rule-breaking aboard Voyager. Is that all?"

Tuvok's gaze remained steady. He had never known the Captain to shrug off matters so lightly and without any consideration for others. His worry growing by the minute, the Vulcan regarded his long-time colleague for what seemed an eternity. Making a decision to speak to Chakotay before going any further with Janeway herself, he finally nodded.

"That is all, for now, Captain." He turned to go, but was stopped short.

"I didn't dismiss you, Lieutenant."

The slender man turned back to face Janeway once again, and she wagged a finger at him. "Not very Starfleet of you, Tuvok."

"Captain, I thought that our conversation had ended. Had I realized-"

"Oh, just get the hell out," said Janeway disgustedly, waving a one-handed gesture of dismissal. Snapping his heels together smartly, he left, several small pieces of popcorn sticking to his polished boots.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was with trepidation that B'Elanna approached Chakotay's quarters. She had taken every precaution she could think of to erase and disguise her presence here, yet the feeling of disquiet lingered. It went against all the rules in the book to discard her comm badge, mask her life signature with a dispersed thoron beam and alter the ship's logs, and Torres smiled ruefully. Six years ago her rules came from a very different book, and such clandestine behaviour was warranted and accepted, yet as the young half-Klingon slipped down the corridor she felt the same tingle, the sensation of excitement and fear that she had felt often during her years with the Maquis. Coming to a stop, she held up a tricorder, scanning through the doors to Chakotay's quarters.

The doors opened suddenly, causing Torres to let out a gasp of surprise. Chakotay himself pulled her inside, after briefly glancing up and down the corridor to make sure that no-one else was in sight.

"You weren't the only one scanning the corridor," said Chakotay mildly.

"Ow!" exclaimed the Klingon, rubbing her arm where the first officer had grasped her firmly. "Chakotay!"

"Sorry, B'Elanna. You were taking your time out there, so we decided to pull you in." His expression, with warm brown eyes and dark brows, mollified the chief engineer, to a point.

Looking around, she surveyed the assembled personnel. It consisted mostly of Voyager's senior officers – Chakotay, Torres herself, Paris, Tuvok and Neelix, along with a sprinkling of other crewmembers, amongst them Ensigns Vorik and Wildman. Notable in their absence were Harry Kim, Voyager's operations officer, Seven-of-Nine who had recently been put off the ship by the Captain, and the Doctor, who had evidently not been invited to this meeting. Looking to start, Chakotay coughed slightly, and all eyes focused on him.

It had not escaped B'Elanna's attention that, at least amongst the officers present, Starfleet was sorely underrepresented.

Chakotay began. "I have asked you all here this evening because I have complete trust in you, and because we all have concerns about the same thing. Person. Captain Janeway, to be specific. I apologise for the _secret_ nature of this meeting, but I believe that, for now, we must keep our discussions private."

A murmur of agreement ran around the room. People were seated on chairs, tables, the floor, anywhere where they could perch.

"Why not just go to the Doctor," said Paris flippantly, with a hint of belligerence. "If there's anything wrong with the Captain, he'll figure it out."

Chakotay hesitated, and Torres cut in before he had a chance to speak. "I've detected certain…anomalies in the Doctor's program over the last few weeks. I didn't think they were important, just natural degradation, but…" she shrugged, looking to her first officer to complete the thought. He obliged in a measured tone.

"It may be that the Doctor's…damage…is due to deliberate interference. When I spoke to him earlier he refused to entertain the possibility that the Captain was ill."

"Why wasn't I informed of this earlier?" asked Tuvok, the dark-skinned, slender, Vulcan security officer. B'Elanna responded with asperity.

"As I said, Tuvok, I thought it was the result of a natural process," she snapped. "There was no reason to tell you about an engineering matter."

Chakotay the Peacemaker stepped in, his expression relaxed with the hint of a smile. "The fact is, we can no longer rely on the Doctor to give us an…unbiased medical opinion. But we have all witnessed, or been the target of, Janeway's anger today. I found her to be…different."

"Actually, Commander?" Samantha Wildman spoke hesitantly, as if she was uncertain that her contribution would be accepted. Chakotay smiled and nodded for her to continue. "I've been thinking that the Captain has been…odd for a while. She used to visit me at least once a week, to ask how Naomi was doing and if there was anything she could do. I haven't seen her for a few weeks, except for today when she said -" The Ensign's voice cut off and dissolved in a flood of tears. For several seconds, nobody moved to comfort her, until Neelix scurried across the room and took the sobbing woman in his arms.

"Why isn't Harry here?" Tom's voice suddenly cut the silence, and everyone looked automatically towards Chakotay, the highest-ranking officer. It was several seconds before he spoke, keeping an even, calm tone, though several other people present visibly tensed at the mention of Ensign Kim.

"Harry is a very young officer," began Chakotay, wishing he could pass the question on to someone else. "This is his first mission; Captain Janeway is his first Captain. He has demonstrated absolute, unfailing loyalty to the Captain, obeyed every order without fail. I – we – couldn't risk bringing him into this, not yet. If the Captain were to find out about this meeting…" Chakotay's voice tailed off, and he looked to Tom Paris with a weary expectancy. The young man surprised him.

"Good job. He's my best friend, but when it comes to Janeway, he is absolutely adamant that she can do no wrong."

Chakotay wondered privately when it had become acceptable to refer to the Captain by her last name only, realising that he himself was guilty of that too. Larger things were at stake that maintaining respectful language, and Chakotay ignored it.

"What do we do?" prompted the First Officer, looking around the room and meeting the eyes of every person in turn. Most looked away, afraid, embarrassed, pensive, he didn't know. Only his fellow officers seemed able to speak.

"I could try to repair the damage to the Doctor's program," offered B'Elanna.

"And I'll keep an eye on Seven's shuttle," added Paris, smiling at his partner. They worked well as a team, noted Chakotay. The large man hesitated before he spoke, wishing that he had shared this earlier.

"I told Seven I would try to find diversions to keep Voyager occupied, so that the _Sacajawea_ can follow us. However," he admitted, I am not in the best position to do that."

"I will assist in that respect, Commander," Tuvok replied instantly, though Chakotay wondered exactly what the security officer could achieve.

"She said she intended to...intended to rejoin the Collective."

Chakotay's words were met with disbelief. All of the personnel present had worked with Seven-of-Nine at some point, and all were well aware that she had been instrumental in saving Voyager more than once.

"No way in hell, Commander," came the response from Paris, followed by similar sentiments from others in the room. Torres's comments were colourful to say the least.

Chakotay, feeling his control over the meeting dwindling, rapped his knuckles firmly on the table in front of him.

"Everyone, I need you to go back to your normal duties. Do the things you have offered, whatever you can, but don't risk being detected. If the Captain knew that we were here now, we would all be facing courts-martial. She is obviously not herself, and if the Doctor can't do anything then it's up to me. But I can't just relieve the Captain of command because of a few incidents, I need evidence. Otherwise the people on board – such as Harry Kim – who are unquestionably loyal to Captain Janeway will defend her to the hilt. Right now they outnumber us considerably, so tread carefully. Dismissed."

As a group they rose and left in ones and twos, hastily making their way back to quarters.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

The shuttlecraft _Sacajawea_ hung stationary in space, her engines powered down. The only systems running were minimal life support and the deflector array, enough to keep a human alive and provide a shield from the deadly radiation that permeated through space. With a complete lack of motion and no warp field surrounding the vessel, the view through the screen was breathtaking, a starry, speckled vista full of possibilities.

Seven-of-Nine did not think for a moment to investigate any of these possibilities, nor was she looking out of the viewscreen. Her mood had sunk lower and lower until finally she stopped the shuttle dead, powered down and curled up in the aft compartment, burying her head with her slender arms. Twenty hours had passed since the ex-Borg had been forced to leave Voyager. Twenty hours since she last heard the voice she had until then respected and admired with a ferocity that had shocked her, though on the outside she had maintained a drone-like impassiveness whilst in Captain Janeway's company.

Now, to Seven, her newfound knowledge and feelings balanced precariously against all she had experienced as part of the Borg collective, it felt as though a continued struggle to claw back more of her humanity was…futile. That scared the young woman more than anything. Lying on the bare deck of the little shuttlecraft, curled tightly into a foetal ball, she wept for the first time she could remember.

**Part 2**

Chakotay, Voyager's ex-Maquis First Officer, a bear-like man with broad shoulders, huge hands and a tribal tattoo covering one side of his forehead, was not a naturally fierce man. Under normal circumstances, that is. He was seated in his chair on the bridge, Captain Janeway in hers which was situated immediately to Chakotay's right. Barely moving his head, the first officer managed to turn enough to catch the watchful eyes of Tuvok, standing in his customary position at the tactical console. The dark-skinned Vulcan nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Captain," Tuvok began calmly, pressing buttons on the panels before him. "I am receiving several anomalous readings through the sensors."

Janeway's head whipped around, eyes blazing. The Vulcan returned his Captain's stare calmly, offering no more.

"For God's sake," she snapped, a hand banging down against the – fortunately solidly-built – armrest of her chair. "When will the senior officers aboard this ship learn to be a bit more bloody specific? 'Anomalous readings' this, 'unidentified signals' that, 'unrecognised vessels' the other – it tells me nothing, zero, shit-all, do you hear?'

A silence stretched on, settling over the entire bridge crew with an essence that was tangible, stifling. Chakotay's eyes once again met Tuvok's, unnoticed by Janeway as she wheeled around the other way and directed her displeasure towards the youngest bridge officer, Ensign Harry Kim, who to his credit and though clearly shocked managed to speak without wavering.

"I'm not reading anything, Captain."

Again, silence, as Janeway slowly tapped at the panel next to her. When she spoke, it was with the deadliness of a laser scalpel through flesh.

"Mr. Tuvok, would you care to explain why only _you_ are receiving these…anomalous readings?"

The Chief of Security, helped by his pure Vulcan ancestry as well as extensive Starfleet training in withstanding interrogations, met the woman's icy tone seemingly with ease whilst everyone else present held their breath, not daring to look directly at either the commanding officer or her subordinate.

"Certainly, Captain. After the Astrometrics Officer left Voyager, I had all alerts from that department rerouted to my station. As for the unspecific nature of my information, it is my duty to inform you that had Seven-of-Nine still been at her post we would undoubtedly have more to offer."

As part of their hastily-concocted plan, Chakotay chimed in, injecting a forced casualness into his light baritone. "Captain, we created the astrometrics lab precisely for this purpose. We need someone in there, preferably someone like Seven-of-Nine." The aim was to goad, to bait, and so far it appeared to be working admirably.

"I am well aware of that, Commander!" The husky voice, though lowered in pitch, was increased threefold in volume, but then suddenly Janeway returned to her chair, tugging down her tunic in a gesture that would have appeared most familiar to anyone who had served with Jean-Luc Picard. Instantly, Janeway regained her normal speaking voice, one she would use for ordering coffee or chatting about warp fields, as though the previous exchange had never taken place.

"Helm, maintain current course and speed."

"Aye, Captain," replied Tom Paris automatically.

"Chakotay, you have the conn. My shift ended twenty minutes ago -" – she yawned theatrically, smiling "- and I'm ready for a meal and a hot bath. I'd rather not be disturbed, unless these anomalous readings jump out and bite us."

Not quite open-mouthed at the sudden and complete about-turn, the first officer mustered up an uneasy "Yes, Captain. Goodnight."

Nodding to Tuvok and Kim, Janeway strolled nonchalantly into the turbolift and disappeared from sight.

"Well, that was -"

"Leave it, Paris." The order from Chakotay was delivered in such a way that it was clearly to be obeyed in no uncertain terms. "Tuvok, join me in the ready room?"

The two men also left the bridge, in such a hurry that, forgetting all their combined command experience, they neglected to hand over the conn.

**Part 3**

Seven-of-Nine opened her eyes, instantly jumping from sleep to full alertness. For a moment she wondered if the shuttlecraft was in danger, but her excellent hearing told her that no alarms had been activated. Unfurling her slender, six-foot body she stretched her limbs with a feline grace, her Borg-enhanced systems ensuring that, unlike an ordinary human, she had suffered no ill effects from sleeping on a cold, hard deck. Those systems, however, had not prevented a series of realistic dreams, more like memories, from invading her restless slumber, and as her mind ran through the visions she had experienced it became obvious that, indeed, they were very close to true events.

The young woman was blessed – or, as it sometimes felt, cursed - with an eidetic memory. Sights, sounds and even smells were stored away in perfect detail, able to be recalled at any time, but it had taken a nudge from her subconscious to tell Seven what she needed to focus on. She was thinking back to Voyager, specifically to the Captain, forcing herself not to dwell upon the events of the last few days but to regress further, to recreate in her mind conversations she had had with Janeway before the recent turmoil.

It took time to replay every single conversation the two women had exchanged recently, but that did not deter the young ex-drone. Soon, she found what she had needed to look for, and forced herself to ignore the annoyance that she felt in allowing herself to become distracted, upset – a very human emotion, she reminded herself in disgust yet with a curious acceptance.

Captain Janeway had been behaving oddly for precisely six weeks and a day. Not, certainly, to the extent that she had shown of late, but gradually anomalies in her behaviour had begun to creep in. With her memory and her total attention to the Captain at all times whilst they were in the same room, Seven had no doubt whatsoever in her convictions. The Captain had been…odd since she returned from a survey mission just over six weeks ago, where an away team had collected various specimens, none of which had proved worthy of detailed examination.

The Borg settled into the seat at the shuttle's helm and, even though the _Sacajawea_ was in fact already in space, began a pre-flight check. There were three options that she could determine. Firstly, follow Voyager passively in the hope that the rest of the crew would eventually reach the same conclusion and address the issue. Secondly, pursue Voyager, modifying the engines if necessary, and alert Chakotay or another senior officer, running the risk of being blown to bits by Janeway whilst attempting to get on board. Thirdly, backtrack to the planet where the away mission took place and see what she could discover.

It took only seconds for Seven-of-Nine's remarkable mind to weigh up the options, and without looking back she turned the little craft around and set a course for the planet at maximum warp.

**Part 4**

Hands clammy and heart pounding in his chest, Commander Chakotay reached out and pressed the door chime to Janeway's quarters with a surprisingly steady hand. Without an audible word from inside the doors slid open and he entered hesitantly, the lights dimmed so much that he could only make out vague shapes. Nevertheless, the first officer walked confidently, for having been in the Captain's quarters many times he could navigate around the furniture in the dark.

"Captain?" he called softly, peering into the shadows.

"Commander Chakotay."

The big man gasped audibly, for the silken voice came from the depths of a large chair right by his elbow. Feeling ridiculous, he took a step back. "It's a little dark in here, Captain. Mind if I turn up the lights?"

When there was no reply, he ordered the computer to give maximum illumination, meaning to flood the room with artificial light. It did become slightly brighter, but nowhere near the usual daytime levels; however it just allowed the first officer to see his Captain and her surroundings.

Janeway was indeed sitting in that chair, very still and upright, though Chakotay did notice that a steaming mug had been placed on a table to one side. The handsome woman was in uniform, though whether the same one she was wearing on the bridge earlier or a fresh set he could not tell. Her face appeared slightly pale, he thought, but set in the impenetrable mask she wore whilst in the Captain's chair. And even then, not always, he thought, studying his superior officer carefully.

"I asked not to be disturbed, Chakotay." She stated simply. There wasn't any threat or undertone at all that he could detect, yet his uneasiness jumped to a new level.

"We need to talk, Kathryn."

"About what?" The auburn locks fell around Janeway's cheeks, but instead of softening the lines of her face they resembled a dark veil, shrouding the Captain's usually open features in shadow.

"I spoke to Seven, Captain, and do you know what she told me?"

"Let me guess, she's sorry, she wants to stay on Voyager, she won't misbehave again." Her voice altered into a cruel parody of the ex-Borg. "I do not wish to leave this ship, Commander. Please allow me to stay. I shall endeavour to perform in an acceptable manner from this moment onwards." Janeway's lips curled upwards at the corners.

"No. I don't want to break her confidence, but since she's gone…she said she cared about you, a lot more than you knew. I thought that you'd like to know. I think that she -"

"Oh, I _see_. How…exquisite. Our very own pet Borg has a crush on her intelligent, powerful Captain. Interesting, eh, Chakotay?" Janeway barked a sudden laugh that was devoid of any true mirth. "And to think of all the fun I could have had with her. I'm almost tempted to get her back."

The first officer found the words and their tone chilling, the way the Captain talked about herself in the third person, and Janeway must have noticed his slight recoil.

"Oh, cut the bull, Chakotay, we both know why you're here. You think I'm acting irresponsibly, perhaps irrationally. You want me to explain myself, justify my actions one-by-fucking-one, and if it doesn't live up to your satisfaction, you want to relieve me of command. Am I right?"

The last three words were almost a purr, a low, satisfied murmur as though Janeway were deriving amusement from her words. Unknown to Chakotay, that was absolutely true, for a sensation of pure pleasure was rising from the depths of her being in anticipation of humiliating this kind, gentle soul.

"I am concerned about you, Kathryn. And I'm concerned about your ability to command Voyager, or more specifically to command her crew. I think -"

"Oh, I don't care what you think, Chakotay. I don't care at all." Now the cadences had a definitely menacing edge, and the recipient took an unconscious step backwards, towards the door. Though it was obvious that he could easily overpower her in a physical struggle, it did not even occur to him to bundle her up and haul her off to sickbay or the brig, such was the unreasonable terror that shot through his heart like an arrow.

Janeway began to rise, continuing to speak, and Chakotay stumbled slightly as he retreated further. "If you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, on the bridge or anywhere else; if you so much as _breathe_ a word against me, I will not put you in the brig, Chakotay, oh no. _I will kill you_. Do I have your…complete understanding?"

Chakotay, somehow, nodded. At a wave of Janeway's hand, he fled.

…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Part 1**

The shuttlecraft _Sacajawea_'s engines reduced to a low hum as it approached its destination. The planet below was one which a Voyager away team had visited recently, collecting specimens of the abundant plant life on the 'M' class planet. Plotting a rotating orbit that would cause the little craft to cover the entire surface of the planet, Seven-of-Nine regarded the sensor display intently. There were no signs of life other than the botanical and insect kind, nor any discernable energy signatures.

The planet below appeared as a kaleidoscope of greens, with blues dotted around. Seven-of-Nine reviewed the information that Voyager had collected on their away mission six weeks prior. There was a multitude of atmospheric data, a plethora of geological data, and a list of samples which the away team had brought back to Voyager. In short, very little of use. Determined to dig deeper, though she would never have used those words, the ex-Borg positioned the shuttlecraft in a standard orbit in order to make rather Borg-esque modifications to the sensors. Rising, Seven crossed to the engineering panel and pried it open.

Within a few hours, the sensors array was reconfigured more to the ex-Borg's standards. She had had to use her considerable Borg knowledge as well as much of the equipment she had 'borrowed' from Voyager. Finally satisfied, the young woman settled back into her chair at the command/helm station.

"Scan for sentient lifesigns," she ordered flatly, and there was a pause until the computer delivered its results.

_None detected._

Frustrated, the Borg made several adjustments through her console. "Computer, scan for energy signatures."

_Unidentified energy signatures detected, bearing 273 mark 4."_

"Adjust heading to those co-ordinates. Prepare for landing."

The shuttle touched down on a patch of overgrown meadow, and after taking up a phaser and medical kit, Seven-of-Nine strode out with a determination that surprised even herself.

**Part 2**

Chakotay stood in his quarters, still reeling from his encounter with the Captain. Thinking back, he should have just subdued the stocky woman and dragged her off to get help, or used the site-to-site transporter, but at the time the notion just didn't occur to him. He tapped his comm badge, then immediately cut off the communication. Janeway had threatened him, and although he had yet to truly believe her words, he knew that Janeway would do as Chakotay himself would when feeling threatened, such as monitor communications and order the computer to keep a log of people entering his quarters.

Reverting to an archaic practise used often by the Maquis, Chakotay wrote a note.

_B'Elanna. Don't contact me over the comm system. Maquis code blue._

_Holodeck 2, 01:00. You and Paris keep your comm badges. Find a discreet method of communication and notify the others. Chakotay._

The first officer's knowledge of engineering was limited, but he had years of Maquis fighting behind him, learning to survive in the most threatening and hostile of environments. Voyager was his home, familiar territory, and it didn't take long before he was able to send his note surreptitiously, using the transporter systems and materialising his hasty note at Torres's food replicator.

**Part 3**

Fearlessly, confident in both her own strength and the protection afforded by the tricorder, which she also stole from Voyager, Seven hiked towards the source of the mysterious energy signal. The plant life was irritating, and frequently she had to cut a path through particularly dense regions using either the phaser or her deadly-sharp, concealed knife. As the path grew broader, Seven's tricorder indicated the presence of caves, which she approached with both wariness and determination.

The young woman felt alone, for the first time in her life, even though after she was separated from the Borg collective she had experienced a great sense of loss. In this, however, she was truly alone. Fleetingly her thoughts turned to the Borg, how she had originally intended, after being expelled from Voyager, to rejoin the Collective. Seven shrugged off her feelings with a shudder, concentrating on the bright tricorder display.

Ahead, a cave opening beckoned, wide and inviting. Readings from the sensor device showed signs of further plant life, some emitting interesting chemical signals. Unperturbed, the young woman approached, then entered the darkness, activating a personal light source. Having increased the efficiency of the tricorders as well as the _Sacajawea_'s sensors, she detected an energy field emanating from a larger chamber ahead. Fearlessly, Seven pushed on, knowing in some way that she was helping the Captain and ignoring how badly she wanted to do so.

The Borg entered the larger chamber, and for the second she remained conscious her glance took in an unbelievable scene. Dark, discrete chambers, humanoid in dimension, littered the room, some of them open, others closed. In the centre was a glowing device, reminiscent of a warp core though much smaller in size. The last thought Seven had was that of struggling to glance at her tricorder and seeing a single, weak, human lifesign, as she was engulfed in an intense, orange light.

**Author's note**

Sorry, I'm not able to continue right now, but I'll finish this chapter tomorrow or later today and post an updated version.

I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it. I wish I could do 'Evil Janeway' permanently!

Sam.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Part 1**

Chakotay unclipped his comm badge from his tunic, breaking several regulations in doing so. It was some small comfort that others across the ship were doing the same thing, but it still felt wrong. The first officer placed it down on a table in plain sight – there was little point in hiding it, for it would be clear that Chakotay himself was not in the room even though his comm badge signal was.

He wore a brown tunic with black leather fastenings over dark, heavy trousers, rather than the Starfleet uniform he wore whilst on duty; black with a red command stripe across the shoulders. A glance at his computer console told him it was 00:57. Time to go. At the last moment he snatched up a phaser, tucking it inside his tunic. The last thing he wanted was a firefight, but his instincts told him to be prepared. There was one more precaution he took before leaving his quarters for the holodeck.

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway."

_Captain Janeway is in her quarters._

Satisfied, he slipped out into the dimly-lit corridors and made his way carefully to Holodeck 2, making sure that he encountered no-one by scanning the corridors with a tricorder.

The doors opened and an incongruous sight greeted the large man. Neelix's beach program was running, though toned down to a late-evening version, with soft steel pans rather than a full mariachi band and a cooler temperature as the holographic sun was setting. A large table had been assembled by pushing smaller ones together, and most of the seats were already occupied. Neelix, Paris and Wildman lounged on one side, flanked by several crewmen, whilst a short distance away sat Tuvok, Ensigns Ayala and Vorik, plus Torres along with two of Tuvok's security staff and an engineering crewman. With the exception of Tuvok all were sipping a turquoise-coloured drink, one of Neelix's cocktails no doubt.

"Everyone's here," noted Chakotay. "Good. Did any of you run into trouble on the way?"

Heads shook all around the table. Torres spoke next in a hard voice. "Only Tom and I have our comm badges on." She spread her fingers on the table. "If anyone happens to check, it will look like we're meeting secretly for, you know, intimate relations." Torres had the grace to blush slightly, whilst Paris's grin only widened.

Voyager's first officer looked around gravely, feeling more than ever like the Maquis he had left behind when he accepted the post and the uniform from Janeway. He had to keep reminding himself that although this felt like an undercover dissident operation, they were working to save the Captain and with her the entire ship, somehow.

"Let's start, then." He gave a brief account of his meeting with Janeway in her quarters, eliciting several gasps as he repeated the Captain's threat. After he finished, nobody spoke for several seconds, each trying to reconcile the harsh words with what they knew of their Captain.

"Sorry, Chakotay, but why didn't you call security right there and then? That's got to be something you can relieve her of command for?"

Tuvok shook his head, indicating otherwise. "There were no witnesses, and I would suspect that the Captain would have made it look as though she were the one being threatened had a security team attended. I believe that under those circumstances, your actions were correct, Commander."

"Thanks, Tuvok, but even if I'd wanted to call security or restrain the Captain physically, I…found that I couldn't. For some reason I was too scared to move. I've never felt that way before and I'm not eager to confront her alone. I don't think any of us should try to. Tuvok, if you ordered your security teams to take Captain Janeway into custody, would they obey?"

The Vulcan carefully rested his chin on his steepled fingers. "At present, possibly not. Most of the ship's crew are unaware of the…odd behaviour the Captain has shown. The ship has been placed in no danger. Many of the crew were relieved when Seven-of-Nine left the ship, having felt that it should have been done long ago. It may be that some of the security personnel feel more loyalty to me than the Captain, in addition to present company; however I believe that any attempt to use such force would end in a ship-wide conflict."

"A civil war, Chakotay," breathed B'Elanna. "We can't -"

The half-Klingon's words stopped short as the holodeck doors slid open, despite the privacy seal they had placed on it. There was a fumble throughout the group as an assortment of weapons were produced and held ready. Harry Kim strolled onto the holodeck, pausing and then recoiling in shock as he stared at the array of weaponry that was aimed towards him.

"Ah, Tom, B'Elanna – what's going on? How come - why are you all pointing weapons at me? This isn't right – I'm going to the Captain – oof!" The pitiful exhalation of breath came as Kim was rocked by two phaser blasts. Chakotay and Tuvok had fired simultaneously, and Harry was badly stunned.

"Let's move him out of sight," suggested B'Elanna, and, aided by Neelix and Ayala, they began to carry the unconscious form. Engaged with this task, they didn't notice that the doors had opened once again.

"B'Elanna, stop." Chakotay said softly, and she could see why as she turned around.

Captain Janeway stood just inside the door, her auburn hair flaming in the holographic sunset. Her compact form seemed larger than usual and she looked every inch the Starship Captain. Flanked by two security teams, all armed with phaser rifles, with another team backing them up, Janeway advanced slowly. Without a word she nodded to the prone Harry Kim, and two security men peeled off to pick him up, handling him carefully as they exited the holodeck.

"Put down your weapons." Nobody moved, and for a moment it seemed that a stalemate had been created. Janeway spoke again. "You are outnumbered and outgunned. Put down your weapons, or we will open fire."

Slowly, Chakotay was the first to do so, followed by Torres and then the others. They straightened, looking directly at their Captain.

"You are all arrested for mutiny," stated Janeway, her voice a low growl. "Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Tuvok will face additional charges of assault and attempted murder. Escort them all to the brigs, except for Ensign Wildman. She is to be confined to quarters along with her daughter." Janeway looked at Wildman with something approaching compassion, but not quite.

The Captain turned on her heels and marched out as the security teams herded the group together and, with gentle prods from the business end of their rifles, walked them out into the corridor.

**Part 2**

Seven-of-Nine stopped struggling, held in place as she was by an energy field that glowed a deep orange. Her mind continued to work as did her limbs within the confines of the beam, yet she could not force herself through the barrier. Calmly, the Borg extended her assimilation tubules and probed the field, extracting information about its nature, phase variance and strength. Withdrawing the tubules, the young woman drew her phaser and made some adjustments, ignoring the orange glow that danced around her. Once her modifications were complete, she took careful aim, selecting a direction so that if the beam rebounded it would not strike her. The precaution was unnecessary as the phaser fire passed through the energy field, impacting on the rock wall opposite with no apparent loss of power. Seven aimed the weapon again, this time targeting the glowing device in the centre of the room, increasing the power to full and firing coolly.

The blast shattered the small device and it ceased to hum and glow, whilst at the same time the shield surrounding Seven disappeared. Ignoring the debris, she skirted the wreckage and made for the single set of human lifesigns that her tricorder still registered. The readings were coming from one of the dark capsules that filled the room, and Seven reached out a little hesitantly. Tapping buttons on a control panel, she managed to free the locking mechanism and cautiously the ex-Borg lifted the lid, phaser at the ready.

Her heart skipped a beat and her lungs let out the breath she didn't realise she had been holding as she looked down on the still, naked form of Captain Janeway. She was unconscious but very weak, as far as the Borg could determine, and she didn't appear to be connected in any way to the capsule, though tell-tale puncture wounds on the older woman's stomach, chest and groin area suggested that until very recently she had been linked to the pod, most likely to keep her body functioning.

Gently, Seven reached down and grasped Janeway firmly, lifting her easily with the Borg-enhanced strength she possessed. Cradling the Captain in a tender, protective embrace, she carried the warm body through the cave, back the way she had come. It was not an easy journey to the shuttlecraft, and Seven would have sworn that some of the foliage she had hacked away earlier had grown back, but eventually she, with her precious cargo, reached the sanctity of the _Sacajawea_. Mindful of the possibility that the owners of the device she had destroyed might come looking for the perpetrator, Seven quickly programmed the shuttle's computer for a take-off sequence followed by a course that led towards Voyager's last known position.

Then, more tenderly than anyone would have believed, the ex-Borg laid her Captain on one of the roll-out sleeping pads in the aft compartment, placing a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body. Before doing so she had checked Janeway thoroughly for damage, and her intense scrutiny of the Captain's form had caused unusual feelings to stir within the Borg's own body, and it was with a slight shakiness that Seven returned to the cockpit and settled into the chair at the helm.

**Part 3**

Janeway was sitting in the Captain's chair on the bridge, where the crew was severely depleted. Harry Kim, recovered from his injuries, was back at the ops console, whilst Ensign Jenkins who normally flew the gamma shift sat uneasily at the helm. Ensign Murphy, who had deputised on other occasions where Tuvok was unavailable, manned the tactical station.

"Captain, I'm picking up a ship on long-range sensors." Mindful of the Captain's earlier outburst, Harry rushed on. "It is a small vessel, one lifesign detected, a humanoid which we haven't encountered before."

Murphy started where Kim left off. "I detect light shields and weaponry based on graviton technology. They are no match for Voyager, Captain."

"Much better," said the Captain in a silky smooth voice, flashing smiles at both junior officers. Janeway addressed the helm, ordering an intercept course and was delighted when, not to be outdone, Jenkins informed her that she had already laid in a course.

"Excellent," breathed Janeway, her eyes flashing blue with anticipation. "Engage, helm, Warp nine."

The smaller vessel did not retreat, in fact as soon as Voyager was within hailing range, a communication signal beeped at ops. "We're being hailed by the small vessel, Captain," informed Kim smartly.

"On screen"

The image appeared, showing a small, pointy-faced alien with delicate, elegantly-curled horns and pointed ears. His smile appeared genuine, his arms spread in greeting.

"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager."

"I am Koth, of the Rabari," he replied, bowing his head formally. "I am a trader, Captain. If you wish to engage in trade, I would be delighted to meet with you."

Janeway mulled it over. There were some items Voyager was running short of, and the alien seemed anything but hostile, quite the opposite. Still, gaining more information would be only prudent.

"We are from a planet called Earth, in the Alpha Quadrant, approximately fifty thousand light years from here. We are explorers." Expecting the alien to reciprocate with similar information, Janeway wasn't disappointed. As the alien continued to speak, she felt a tightness in her chest as excitement coursed through her veins.

"My home planet is called Rabar, in what would be known as your beta quadrant, approximately eighty-five thousand light years from here. My home is there as well as our centre of trade. If you and your ship would care to accompany me there, I can offer you many more items and resources to trade."

"Eighty-five thousand light years? And…how long have you been travelling, Mr. Koth?" Janeway's eyes glinted fiercely, and the other three crew on the bridge sat deathly still, listening with disbelief.

"Oh, about, what time is it now? I left after breakfast, so…about five hours in your time. It has so far not been a very profitable day," he confided, shaking his head sadly.

Janeway rose from her chair and approached the viewscreen more closely, her face an imperturbable mask. "You can travel that distance in five hours?"

"I travelled it in one hour, Captain – the rest of the time I have spent searching for vessels with whom to trade. Are you saying that you….can't travel these distances? Oh dear, oh dear, this is not good, not good at all. We aren't supposed to even speak with cultures who haven't mastered space-folding travel. Oh dear, I must get back to my work, Captain -"

"What would you ask for in exchange for that technology?" Janeway said casually as though asking for food or dilithium. The alien was clearly disturbed now and he shook his head forcefully, reaching out to his navigation console.

"No no no, I cannot… it is unthinkable. I am deeply sorry, Captain. I will leave now."

"Oh, I think not, Mr. Koth." Menace had once again taken over, but the bridge crew was silently spellbound, watching the exchange. The silence was broken. "Mr Kim, lock a tractor beam onto the vessel. Murphy, arm phasers and target propulsion only. Try not to blow the whole array apart," Janeway added as her instructions were followed and the Rabari ship was held stationary in the green beam.

"Fire," ordered Janeway. The little vessel rocked and a section exploded, a small amount of debris scattering from the hole in the ship's hull.

"Report."

"Ah, the vessel's propulsion has been disabled. Still one life sign," Harry sounded dazed, and Janeway shot him a look before continuing.

"Mr. Murphy, can you beam out their main propulsion drive?"

"Aye, Captain. I can transport it to engineering."

"Good. Put a security field around it and beam it to one of the engineering storage compartments, B, I think is the largest."

"Transport complete."

"Good work, Murphy. I'm going down to engineering. Harry, you have the conn."

Once Janeway had left the bridge, Harry sank into his chair, staring into space. Murphy and Jenkins, he noticed, seemed unaffected, continuing their duties as normal. They were both very new to bridge duty, thought Harry – maybe they thought that this was the way things were done out here in the Delta quadrant. Pale, legs shaking, Harry walked around the bridge to the command chairs and sat in the one normally reserved for the first officer. He glanced across at the chair just vacated by Captain Janeway and a nausea washed over him together with a sense of fear and panic. Mutineers or not, and he was quickly beginning to suspect the latter, he desperately wanted at that moment to talk to Chakotay, or Tom, or Torres. He stood, more decisively this time.

"I'm going to check on the departments," he announced with authority. "Murphy, you're in charge. Call me if there's any change in status."

"Aye, sir," came the automatic reply. Before his nerves let him down, Harry entered the turbolift, breathing heavily. "Deck 13. Brig."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Part 1**

Seven-of-Nine powered back the engines of the vessel she currently piloted, the small shuttlecraft _Sacajawea _which until recently had belonged to the USS Voyager, intrepid by class and intrepid by nature. She had been running the warp engines at over 150% of authorised tolerance in a bid to catch up with the starship, and even with her best efforts at modification the warp coils had begun to creak. Even so, Voyager was under twenty-four hours away now, and the intelligent young woman had yet to come up with a plan.

The operation was made more difficult as she simply had no idea what had occurred aboard the ship in her absence. All attempts to raise the Doctor through his emergency channel had failed, and Seven did not want to risk alerting the rest of the crew. Perhaps nothing too extreme had happened yet, she considered, though judging by the fact that Voyager's "Captain" was currently some kind of impostor and that the real Kathryn Janeway was lying unconscious in the aft compartment of the _Sacajawea_, that seemed unlikely. Whilst the blonde ex-Borg coolly checked the heading and sensor readings, she became aware of a small sound, a voice, and in that moment her spirits rose and her heart skipped a beat. Turning the controls over to the computer, she hurried to Janeway's side.

"Report." Weak and distant, Voyager's true Captain still managed to inject a note of authority into her command. Seven knelt by her side, scanning the older woman with a medical tricorder.

"Please remain still, Captain. You are damaged. Do you know where you are?"

Janeway's eyelids fluttered, and Seven thought she might fade away again, but then her eyes opened slightly wider, the colour a faded grey. "Shuttlecraft," she muttered, attempting to raise herself up onto one elbow. The blanket that covered her slipped down, revealing a good portion of the Captain's breasts, and she looked down with a bemused expression. "Why am I naked?" she murmured, the tone dazed. Then, with a slight sigh, she collapsed once again onto the sleeping roll.

**Part 2**

Harry Kim strode through the corridors with a confidence that was all on the outside. Internally he was scared stiff, and freely admitted it to himself. He carried no weapon, for even though Voyager was in a state of 'mutiny', for a bridge officer to carry a phaser around would have drawn suspicion, and that was the last thing the young Ensign wanted to do. Steeling himself and putting on a command face, or so he hoped, Kim entered the main brig. Without hesitation he walked up to the surprised security officer who was on guard duty.

"The Captain's ordered me to interrogate the prisoners. Lower the force field, crewman." Harry was actually quite surprised when his order was obeyed smartly without comment, and Kim looked the young man in the eye, sorry at what he was about to do. "Wait outside, please," he ordered, and once again the crewman made to obey, walking towards the main door, albeit with a phaser rifle held competently in his arms. Kim quickly wheeled about and felled the yellow-clad security officer with a judicious blow to the side of his head, earning himself a few bruised fingers in the process. Satisfied that the man wasn't seriously injured and muttering an apology, Kim turned and, for the first time, allowed himself to meet the eyes of the so-called mutineers.

**Part 3**

The ex-Borg retrieved a hypospray from a medical kit and programmed it quickly. Under normal circumstances she doubted that the Doctor would ever allow anyone to revive Janeway whilst she was in this state, but these were far from normal circumstances. Resourceful though she was, Seven-of-Nine needed her Captain, functioning in mind if not body. Crouching once again, she injected medication into Janeway's neck, the older woman not even flinching. After a minute, Janeway opened her eyes once again and Seven noted a measure of alertness that had not been present before.

"This _is_ a shuttlecraft," came the husky voice with a hint of wryness. Managing to pull herself to a sitting position with the younger woman's aid, Janeway looked around her. "The_ Sacajawea_. Why – what?…oh. Oh, no." The Captain's eyes suddenly locked onto Seven's with a fierce intensity, and her arms reached out, grasping the Borg's shoulders with complete disregard for the fact that her upper body was now completely bare.

"I threw you off Voyager," Janeway said slowly, fighting to keep the emotion from her voice and for once not succeeding. "I was angry, mean, I said things…"

"No," replied Seven firmly, tears pooling in the corners of her own eyes now, matching those of Janeway's. "You didn't, Captain. I believe that you were somehow replaced by an alien impostor, who was linked to you telepathically in order to retain your memories and take command of the ship. You…you were imprisoned in a device…"

Seven's voice choked off as she remembered how pitiful Janeway had appeared when she had opened the chamber, and the young woman slumped forward, fighting for breath. She hadn't been certain of her feelings for the Captain until now, but in this moment there was no doubt. Then, as she struggled to regain her composure, she felt two slender arms snake around her as Janeway, ignoring the pain it must have caused her due to her injuries, pulled her close and held her tightly, the blonde head resting on the Captain's shoulder.

**Part 4**

In this room, Voyager's main brig and the most secure place on the ship, Janeway had placed the officers deemed to be most dangerous, and Harry couldn't help but see why. B'Elanna Torres was cursing loudly, a stream of Klingon epithets issuing from her lips in a hiss as she approached the Ensign with fury in her eyes. At the last second she was held back by Chakotay, with Paris clinging ineffectually to the feisty woman's other arm. Lieutenant Tuvok also rose to his feet, the slender security chief eyeing Kim dispassionately. There were already several panels open in various places with components hanging out, obviously having been hidden from view somehow, and Tuvok held the beginnings of some sort of device in his hands.

"Harry?" said Chakotay warily, and Kim glanced at the door to make sure nobody was eavesdropping before he spoke.

"Sir, I'm sorry about before, I – I didn't know what was going on. Commander, the Captain's out of control, she attacked a ship, stole a propulsion device. We've got to do something, and fast!"

"Calm down, Harry," came the First Officer's reply, in a quiet tone that bore no malice. "Where is Janeway now?"

"In engineering, trying to integrate the device into Voyager's systems. She has extra security teams patrolling the ship, they don't know what's going on either, but I think they're getting suspicious." Kim was on the verge of losing control, and Paris took his arm, steering him to a low bench that doubled as a sleeping platform.

"C'mon, Harry, get a grip. What's the plan, Chakotay?" the young helmsman turned to the senior officer. It was Torres who spoke first, though, all sign of anger gone as she outlined a simple plan. In fact, plans don't get much simpler, but the ex-Maquis had learned the hard way that the more complicated things were, the more can go wrong.

"Chakotay and I'll go to engineering through the Jeffries tubes; it's only two decks away and must be seriously undermanned. We'll grab Janeway, or whoever the hell it is, 'cause between us I've got my doubts, and bring her back here. Tuvok, can you and Tom convince some of your men that it's the Captain who's the threat, not us?"

The Vulcan paused for a moment before replying. "I believe so. News should have already spread regarding the Captain's attack and subsequent theft."

"Let's do it," agreed Chakotay, pushing Kim gently towards the door. "Harry, get back to the bridge, see if you can raise the _Sacajawea_ – quietly."

With a minimum amount of fuss, the young Ensign scooped up the phaser rifle from the deck and tossed it to Torres. The group split up and went their separate ways, knowing that if they failed they would likely not get a second chance.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Part 1**

When the Captain finally released her friend, she could still feel wetness from the Borg's tears on the bare skin of her shoulder, and she pushed the younger woman away gently, their eyes locking together in mutual understanding. Whatever had just passed between the two women, a discussion would have to wait until later. With the younger woman's arms firmly around the Captain's waist, Janeway struggled painfully to her feet, clutching the blanket around her and looking down pointedly.

"I have a feeling I will think better with a uniform," said Janeway pointedly, but smiling to take the sting from her words. Silently, Seven-of-Nine crossed to the shuttle's storage lockers and managed to extract trousers, undershirt and a tunic in roughly Janeway's size, though it bore a yellow stripe instead of command red. Janeway's expression softened once again as she realised that the ex-Borg had been abandoned by her impostor in a shuttlecraft without so much as a replicator for comfort, but instantly she put her emotions aside and focused on the task. With Seven's help, for Janeway was fairly seriously injured, the older woman dressed, then eased painfully into the co-pilot's chair.

"The last thing I remember from my telepathic link with the alien was arresting most of the senior officers," Janeway stated calmly, looking out of the viewscreen and leaving the controls to her uninjured colleague. "I'm sure they will be doing all they can to escape, and must have realised by now that I'm not – that it isn't me in command."

"Will the other crewmembers reach the same conclusion, Captain?" asked Seven, and Janeway frowned.

"I think we have to assume that the answer is yes," she replied in a weakening voice. "After all, I've never been that nasty, even when we ran out of coffee."

The younger woman glanced across at the Captain and was rewarded with a brief grin. Pleased that Janeway was able to make a joke despite the situation they found themselves in and the obvious pain that the woman was suffering, Seven spoke slowly once more.

"I tried to reach the Doctor, Captain. He did not reply."

"No, he wouldn't – my _counterpart_ altered his program, I'm not certain how but she – it – used some kind of encoding sequence. Since Torres and the others were rounded up shortly afterwards, he is most likely still offline."

"Then what do you suggest," demanded Seven, pointing at the sensors. "We will be within sensor range of Voyager shortly."

Janeway sat quietly, trying to pull her thoughts together. A stabbing pain shot through her already throbbing torso and she winced visibly, earning concerned looks from Seven which she waved off with a gasp. "I'm ok." The Borg was sceptical to say the least, knowing from her earlier scans that in addition to the deep puncture wounds she had suffered Janeway was bleeding internally and had three broken ribs, one of which was perilously close to the Captain's left lung. Without proper treatment, quickly, Janeway would be in serious danger.

"Ok. Let's try route one."

"Route one, Captain?" The Borg's eyebrow rose quizzically, eliciting a small smile from the Captain once more.

"Approach Voyager, hail them, and hope to hell the crew has put the impostor where it belongs. In the meantime, I think I need to lie down."

Several seconds passed, the younger woman fighting her misgivings before finally placing her trust in the Captain, her respected mentor and friend. "Acknowledged." Seven helped Janeway aft, and the little craft carried on its way, neither occupant sure what would happen when they finally caught up with the starship.

**Part 2**

Torres's small, supple form was much more suited to crawling through narrow tubes than Chakotay's bear-like stature, and when the two reached the hatchway leading to the rear or main engineering, the First Officer gestured for B'Elanna to exit first whilst he regained his breath for a moment. She carried a phaser rifle like she was born with it, a trait which Klingons tend to show with any kind of arms. A former Maquis fighter and highly resourceful woman, the Chief Engineer could probably turn a carrot into a deadly weapon. Deciding on stealth rather than all-guns-blazing, for Janeway was most likely focused on her newly-stolen propulsion device, the two officers eased themselves from the Jeffries tube, immediately ducking low.

Janeway – or rather her alien impostor – stood by the main console, talking to a junior engineer and gesturing angrily. Using familiar hand signals, Chakotay directed Torres one way whilst he crept in the other direction, a simple outflanking manoeuvre that was rather unnecessary, since there were only the engineer and Janeway present and neither was armed. Chakotay knew now that this was not Kathryn Janeway, at least not mentally, for his highly intelligent, experienced Captain would never leave herself so open. Holding up three fingers to Torres, Chakotay silently put them down one at a time, and on zero they came at Janeway from opposite directions.

The young engineer stood rooted to the spot, and Torres made a mental note to have all her crewmen trained to a higher tactical standard, able to recognise a potential threat even if it were Torres herself. Janeway snarled something unintelligible and rolled to one side, trying to move to a safe position, but she was no match for a large, powerful man and a very pissed-off half-Klingon.

"Who are you?" demanded Chakotay, a harshness in his voice that was now rarely heard. The woman spat in his face, swearing almost as fluently as B'Elanna had during her short sojourn in the brig, though in a loud English drawl rather than Klingon, and the First Officer recoiled. Together he and Torres pulled Janeway to the floor where the Chief Engineer promptly sat on her, keeping her arms pinned to the floor.

"What's going on," asked the yellow-shirted engineer, looking from the Captain to his immediate superior to the First Officer. "I don't think you should do that, Lieutenant," he said worriedly, making a slight move forward.

"At ease, crewman, everything's fine." Chakotay tapped his comm badge, again surprised that it had not been disabled. Whilst the impostor certainly looked like Janeway, it certainly had a lot to learn about pretending to be a Starfleet Captain. "Chakotay to Tuvok. Have you made progress?"

The security chief's familiar bland tones came through the comm system. "Affirmative, Commander. I have several security teams with me and am on my way to engineering. Another team is en route to the bridge along with Mr. Paris. I think it is safe to say that the threat has been neutralised."

"Excellent work. I'll put out a shipwide announcement as soon as we know more; the crew need some sort of explanation, or at least they need to know that there's no full-scale mutiny in progress. I'm convinced that the woman here is not the Captain. B'Elanna will get the Doctor back online, and maybe then we'll get some answers."

The doors to engineering swished open and Tuvok entered, eight security men and women with him, obviously once again under his authority. "Acknowledged," he stated. "What shall I do with the…impostor?"

"Have her put in the brig," Chakotay ordered, "with a three-man guard." Tuvok gestured to three security crewmen who grabbed Janeway and hauled her off none-too-gently, well aware that they had been far too easily deceived.

"Let's get to the bridge."

**Part 3**

Things were almost back to normal on Deck One with the exception of the empty Captain's chair when Tuvok and Chakotay entered. Paris had already regained his usual position at the helm, and Tuvok crossed quickly to the tactical console whilst Chakotay sank wearily into the First Officer's chair. He was about to ask Harry Kim for a status report when the young Ensign spoke first, his eyes gleaming.

"Commander, we're being hailed. It's the _Sacajawea_."

"On screen," Chakotay ordered, bouncing up out of his chair. The coolly impassive face of Seven-of-Nine appeared on the viewscreen, and the First Officer smiled.

"Seven, good to see you." He was slightly lost for words, not knowing where to begin, when suddenly a hunched figure appeared behind the young Borg, leaning heavily on Seven-of-Nine's strong shoulders.

"Captain?" Chakotay asked hesitantly, determined not to make the same mistake twice. The yellow-striped uniform on the Captain was an unusual sight, and it was enough to make him cautious.

"It's me, Chakotay," Janeway gasped, coughing the words out and stumbling. Seven caught her as she collapsed into the younger woman's arms, holding the Captain firmly yet carefully as she looked at the screen.

"This is indeed Captain Janeway, Commander. She requires immediate medical attention."

Chakotay turned to Harry, who was already pressing buttons. "Beam them both to sickbay. Chakotay to Torres. How're you doing with the Doctor? We need him online now."

"It wasn't as bad as I originally thought. I'm just about finished…done, Commander."

Voyager's Chief Medical Officer's reassuring voice came over the comm link. "I've got the Captain, Commander."

Everyone on the bridge relaxed visibly, and the First Officer strode towards the turbolift, handing the conn over to Tuvok and instructing Paris to retrieve the _Sacajawea_. Whilst he was going to sickbay mainly to find out how badly Captain Janeway was injured, a part of him wanted to see her in person, just to make sure – not that he doubted the word of the ex-Borg astrometrics officer in the slightest.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**Part 1**

The impostor had expired whilst in the brig, by suicide according to the Chief Medical Officer, achieved by releasing powerful toxins it was able to produce into its own bloodstream. Its genetic structure was an altered version of Janeway's, with alien brain patterns overlaid and an unusual physiochemistry. Though she knew what it was, Janeway had still felt very odd indeed as she returned the body to the planet it had come from, placing warning buoys throughout the sector.

It had required Janeway's and Neelix's best diplomatic efforts, several gifts and a shipload of humble apologies before the space-folding Rabari trader was finally pacified. His propulsion device was returned to him mostly intact, and through his grumbles he admitted it would be simple for him to repair his little ship with a few minor parts supplied by Voyager. Janeway had retreated to her ready room, her major injuries healed by the Doctor but still very sore, exhausted and uncharacteristically fragile.

Now, well into the evening, Janeway sat on the long couch, staring pensively out into space. Though she was not responsible for the alien's actions aboard Voyager, she felt a raft of emotions welling up; embarrassment for one, having let her guard down and been by all accounts easily captured; disappointment with herself and certain sections of the ship's personnel, though all of Voyager's senior officers performed admirably; anger at the way the imposter had treated her crew, and pain as Janeway remembered the hurt looks on their faces, one in particular. Finally…after piecing together her vague memories from the _Sacajawea_…Janeway wasn't sure. Something had happened between herself and the ex-Borg, and it frustrated her immensely that she couldn't define it. In truth, it had been a long time in the making, a personal bond which had formed and then strengthened between them in a way that was impossible with her Starfleet and Maquis crew.

Sighing, the Captain rose, still wearing the slightly-too-large engineer's uniform that she had quickly put back on after being treated by the Doctor despite his protestations that she should rest. Of all the colours of the Starfleet rainbow, this one was the least flattering for the redheaded Janeway, and she almost smiled at the thought of replacing it with another colour, perhaps 'Delta Green" or "Borg Grey", wondering if she could get away with it and deciding probably not, though the actual Starfleet uniform had no doubt changed during the years Voyager had been away. For once, though her quarters were a mere two decks down, Janeway allowed herself the luxury of a site-to-site transport, materialising in her bathroom where she proceeded to peel off the offending garments.

The Captain's quarters were the only ones aboard Voyager to boast a bathtub, Janeway having been absolutely adamant about that particular design specification before she agreed to take command. It filled quickly to just the right temperature, and Janeway allowed herself a luxurious soak, trying to take away her aches, both physical and mental. Eventually, when she decided she would be in danger of dissolving if she stayed there any longer, Janeway hauled herself out of the water and dried quickly.

Of course, that was when the door chime beeped.

**Part 2**

Janeway was on the verge of ordering whoever it was to go away, when a sudden tingle ran down her aching spine, and she quickly grabbed a soft, white robe which seemed to accentuate the unusual paleness in her cheeks, a sign of her very recent ordeal.

"Come in," she said, but the words didn't form properly, instead emerging as a sort of strangled choke that made her cough, her bruised lungs protesting at the assault. Seven-of-Nine entered anyway, her gaze taking in her Captain's state of undress, the coughing fit having halted Janeway in her efforts to tie the robe.

"Sorry, Seven," she muttered with embarrassment – would it ever stop? – fumbling in an effort make her hands work faster and actually making things worse, managing a loose knot across her slightly rounded stomach that allowed the robe to gape open above and below. The younger woman ran an appreciative eye over Janeway's body, causing the Captain to blush as Seven then lifted her gaze slowly and held Janeway's own, ice blue meeting blue-grey.

"There is no need for apology, Captain," stated Seven softly yet in her usual droll manner, a reminder of her history with the Borg Collective. "I am familiar with your form, having carried you naked and unconscious through over a kilometre of wooded terrain and then examining your injuries."

Janeway winced visibly. The blonde's words were absolutely true, and Janeway had no doubt that the Borg was as unperturbed as she appeared, but did she have to be so utterly direct, the Captain thought? Janeway would wonder many times afterward – in a good way - what possessed her at that moment when, instead of prudently turning her back to Seven and arranging her clothing in a way befitting a Starfleet Captain, she stared openly into the piercing eyes, losing herself in their calm depth, and loosened the tie, allowing the robe to fall from her shoulders to the floor.

Ex-Borgness notwithstanding, the younger woman gasped, first at Janeway's boldness then at the bruising that even Voyager's skilled Emergency Medical Hologram could not fully heal. The Captain's chest and stomach bore large grey patches where the alien device had linked to her body, whilst lower down a mottled, purplish blotch just above her dark auburn thatch indicated the other area pierced by the chamber's tubes. Her right shoulder retained some swelling whilst the region where she had sustained broken ribs was obviously tender, the young woman could see from the way Janeway moved.

The Captain approached her friend slowly, allowing time to stop herself or be stopped by a word from the blonde if required. Neither happened, with Seven instead stepping forward to meet her and folding Janeway into her arms, the taller woman completely wrapping up Janeway's compact form and resting her chin easily on the Captain's head. Janeway found that she was crying, silently, the hot, wet tears sliding down the Borg's neck, which bizarrely embarrassed her more than anything else.

Without a word, using her Borg-enhanced strength coupled with a human tenderness that was so often hidden to those around her, Seven-of-Nine picked up her Captain and carried her to her bed, placing her down with care. Janeway's arms clung to her, yet the younger woman gently detached herself, but only for as long as it took to undress, stripping off the purple biosuit that in truth she no longer needed.

"Seven?" Janeway's voice was a questioning whisper, one which was answered decisively when the Borg's lithe, slender form slipped under the covers beside the Captain, wrapping her again in a warm, protective embrace that Janeway turned into willingly, neither woman intending to let go for a long, long time.

**THE END**

**Author's Note**

I decided to continue this story as a series. The next story in the series is called "House Call".

Thank you, as always, for all the reviews, comments, constructive criticism and advice that so many readers have contributed. Your messages keep me writing more.

Sam.


End file.
